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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25616830">Send Your Rain</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_the_love_of_wolves/pseuds/for_the_love_of_wolves'>for_the_love_of_wolves</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Steter Week 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Falling In Love, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:27:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,450</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25616830</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_the_love_of_wolves/pseuds/for_the_love_of_wolves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a wildfire. Tortured by flashbacks and nightmares, Peter is about to leave the town until the fire is gone. But when Stiles appears and offers distraction, he decides to stay.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Steter Week 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1855330</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>202</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Steter Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Send Your Rain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Steter Week Day 5 (Visual Prompt)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A heatwave rushes over Beacon Hills. The sun is burning from a cloudless sky mercilessly. Everything is dry and brittle. The streams carry less and less water. </p><p>Peter keeps up with the news anxiously. When he sees the withered fir needles and the almost yellow grass of the clearings on his regular morning runs through the forest, and the air is almost too dry to breathe it in, he knows deep down that a fire is basically inevitable. He still keeps his hopes up. Like every wildfire season.<br/>
<br/>
He has no luck this time.<br/>
<br/>
When the fires approach, the air starts to smell of smoke and taste of ash. Peter stays away from the forest. He hides in his apartment and only leaves it when he absolutely has to. He closes every window and the curtains, but he can still smell the smoke. Derek doesn’t show up like he did last year. He doesn't even call. Of course. He has Braeden now.</p><p>Peter nervously paces and keeps watching the news and refreshing the information on his phone, still hoping that maybe, the wind is going to turn direction. Or that there’s going to be rain, helping to smother the raging flames. Maybe. Hopefully.</p><p>The hope doesn't keep away the nightmares and flashbacks. He wakes up screaming in the middle of the night, his claws digging into the bedsheets and his clothes clinging to his sweat-soaked skin. It takes him hours to fall asleep again. It hasn't been this bad for ages.<br/>
<br/>
The fire still comes closer.</p><p>Soon, the sky starts to be a sick shade of flickering orange at night.</p><p>The wolf crawls at the walls of Peter's mind and whines. He only consists of terror now. He wants to run. And although Peter told himself he won’t, he won’t run away like a dog with his tail between his legs, he feels his determination faltering.</p><p>When the flames come so close everyone starts to get uncomfortable, they talk about preparing for eventual evacuation in the news. They show some lonely burning hut somewhere in the woods, flames licking at the old wood hungrily, and that’s it. That’s the final straw. Peter switches the tv off, trying to calm his breathing and push away the pictures that threaten to overwhelm him. Pictures of flames licking up the walls, of the ceiling collapsing and burying the first bodies scattering the floor. Pictures of small hands reaching out to him, the echo of a fearful voice calling out his name. Again and again. Peter feels sick and he vomits into the toilet weakly, knowing he can't do this. He can't stay.</p><p>But when Peter finished packing some bags and is halfway out the door, ready to lock it, Stiles appears like out of nowhere, standing in the hallway and blinking at Peter with his two duffel bags and the key in his hand.<br/>
<br/>
Peter suppresses a curse. He definitely doesn’t want anyone to see him like this. Doesn’t want them to see him run. Not even Stiles.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Stiles asks, frowning in confusion. Only now Peter notices that Stiles is carrying a heap of Blue Rays and a bag containing popcorn and his Doritos, and remembers it’s Friday. Friday is their movie evening. It’s an arrangement they agreed on weeks ago. Peter first wasn’t sure Stiles meant it serious. But he came every Friday and it became a pattern. One little routine in the mess his life became. It was … nice.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Stiles suggested it after one of the tedious pack meetings Scott insisted on. They made Peter wish Derek was still an Alpha. That would have made things slightly more bearable.<br/>
<br/>
Usually, they held the meetings at Derek’s place. Everyone was much more comfortable there, Peter knew. But this time, they had a problem that called for Peter’s extensive library and his skills in old Latin, so he had a bunch of uncomfortable teenager werewolves on his couch that certain evening. Teenager werewolves who obviously didn't learn any manners, since they didn't even took off their shoes before they entered and left dirt on his carpet. At least, they only stayed for two hours.</p><p>Not everyone left when Scott called it a day. Stiles remained, sitting on the far corner of the couch and still turning the heavy pages of a thick old book about Centaurs, his eyes glued to the letters and the tip of his tongue barely visible between his lips. He didn’t even stir when Scott called his name. Scott eventually shrugged and left with Isaac.</p><p>Peter watched Stiles reading for a while, silently wondering. “Stiles?” He eventually asked, feeling his patience slipping.</p><p>Stiles flinched a little and perked up, blinking. “Huh?”</p><p>Peter frowned. “Why are you still here?”</p><p>Stiles shrugged and put the book away carefully. Back to where he got it from. That was one of the things Peter admired about him. Stiles always respected the books’ value. He never put them somewhere too firmly, he never creased the pages or put them on the wrong place in the shelf. Stiles cleared his throat and dangled his feet, suddenly looking a bit self-conscious. “Because I want to. But … if you want me to leave, I will. Shall I leave?” And he already moved to get up, his hands gripping the edge of the couch.<br/>
<br/>
Peter shook his head. “It’s alright. You can stay.”</p><p>“Oh. Cool.” Stiles sat back again and relaxed, grinning. “I really like your library.”<br/>
<br/>
That made Peter smile. Stiles' words were filled with real glee. “You’re welcome to take home whatever book you want.”<br/>
<br/>
“What? Really?” Stiles’ eyes went wide. Peter didn’t allow anyone to take the books with them. And he certainly had his reasons. But he nodded at Stiles.</p><p>“Wow. Cool. Thank you. Uh.” Stiles scratched the back of his head. “It’s not only that. I wanted to talk. I … I noticed that you, uh, don’t really interact with anyone in the pack.”</p><p>Peter sighed. “I fear that is a mutual thing.” And it was not like he had a right to complain.</p><p>“Yeah. Well. But you’re a wolf and I know that you need a certain level of interaction to, uh, function. I mean, I’m not a wolf, but I noticed you’re a little bit on the edge lately. You’re snappy. More than usual,” he hurried to say, when Peter raised a brow. “I just fear your wolf isn't getting enough wolfy attention, you know?"</p><p>Peter frowned. He wasn't really following. “Stiles, what exactly are you trying to say?"</p><p>Stiles took a deep breath. “I’m about to offer you interaction. With me. I am in the pack. And I like to spend time here.”</p><p>Peter was surprised. Stiles’ heart didn’t falter, so he wasn’t lying. And he smelled like he hoped Peter would agree. Interesting. “You want to spend time with <em>me</em>,” he clarified. “Didn’t you ask if someone could kill me again not that long ago?”<br/>
<br/>
Stiles blushed a little. “Come on, that was just a joke of course. No, look, I might not have been your greatest fan in the past, but … I respect you. You helped with getting the Nogitsune out of me, you know more about the supernatural than anyone else and lately, you regularly saved the day, so …” He shrugged and grinned weakly.<br/>
<br/>
“My, Stiles, are you trying to flatter me?” Peter smirked.</p><p>Stiles blushed some more. “Shut up. I mean, it wouldn’t hurt, if we met one evening in the week, just to, I don’t know, to watch a movie and eat popcorn, right? You can scent mark me if you like, I don’t mind. Hell, we can even brush shoulders, if that helps you to stay, uh, stable.” </p><p>Peter considered it. He had to admit that the prospect of some friendly interaction was compelling. “What do you want in return?” He asked. They always wanted something. Just like he usually did.<br/>
<br/>
Stiles shrugged. “Nothing in particular to be honest. I’m just trying to help. But I wouldn’t mind getting some more of that fancy chocolate you got me when I was in the hospital.”<br/>
<br/>
Peter smiled. “I can do that.”<br/>
<br/>
Stiles nodded. “Great. So … Do you have any preferences? I pretty much watch everything. We could start with the classics. Or Fast and the Furious. I haven’t watched that in ages and Vin Diesel is hot in it.” He shrugged and grinned.<br/>
<br/>
Peter frowned. “I haven’t seen that.”<br/>
<br/>
Stiles gasped. “What? Really? We are totally going to watch that. Uh, Friday?”<br/>
<br/>
“Okay," Peter carefully agreed. Who knew if Stiles was actually going to show up.<br/>
<br/>
Stiles did show up on Friday. They did watch the movies, all in one night. Stiles did brush shoulders with Peter and he smelled content the whole time. Peter had to start to assume that Stiles really enjoyed this. So he relaxed and tried to enjoy it too. Stiles was good company. He’d always liked him and he was pack enough to satisfy the wolf.<br/>
<br/>
The next Friday, Stiles showed up with a heap of movies so high, he had troubles looking over them and stumbled into the apartment, rambling about how he remembered that Peter was in a coma for six years and missed way too many masterpieces. “We’re going to catch up,” he explained and dropped the heap on Peter’s couch table. "Okay," Peter said, totally overwhelmed by the fact, that Stiles bothered to make list of great movies that covers six years. </p><p>That night, when Stiles leaned against Peter almost casually, laughing at something that happened on screen, his amber eyes sparkling, Peter felt a warmth spreading in his chest that had nothing to do with pack bonds.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
They settled into a comfortable rhythm and of course Stiles is here now, to do what they always do on a Friday, no matter if there’s a wildfire raging outside or not.<br/>
<br/>
Stiles is still standing in the hallway, waiting for an explanation.</p><p>Peter sighs. “Stiles. I’m sorry, we’ll have to postpone this. I have to leave for a while.”</p><p>Stiles’ eyes flicker from his face to the bags and back. Bright realization enters them and Peter knows Stiles gets it. He’s fast. Always so fast. “Is it because of the fires?”</p><p>Stiles is the only one really showing he’s aware of Peter’s issues with fire. He voted against the bonfire pack meeting everyone else was so fond of. He told Scott to fuck off when he asked Peter to help them with a fire witch, calling his best friend a dumbass in front of the whole pack.<br/>
<br/>
“Shit. Uh.” Stiles rubs the back of his head. “My Dad said the wind changed direction, and there’s a rainstorm announced for today’s night or tomorrow morning, so I think it’s not coming any closer. We should be safe.”<br/>
<br/>
“Thank you, Stiles. I appreciate the sentiment. But I still prefer to leave until it’s gone. I …” He stops and looks away. The shame makes his face burn.</p><p>“You can smell everything,” Stiles finishes the sentence for him, swallowing. His eyes fill with sympathy. “Of course.” He clears his throat. “Look, if you really want to leave, I won’t hold you back. Because I get it. I really do. But … the therapist I went to told me running from the fear doesn’t make it better. You will always keep running and it will still follow you. If you want to face it instead, I can stay here and face it with you. I can offer distraction. Or ... You can talk to me. And I won’t tell anyone.”<br/>
<br/>
Peter blinks. He stares at Stiles incredulously. “You would do that? You would stay?”<br/>
<br/>
Stiles smiles. “Of course.”</p><p>Peter looks down at his bags and hesitates. He doesn’t really want to run. And now he has someone who offers to ground him. Still. It means being open and vulnerable. But it's Stiles. He doesn't think that Stiles would use his issues against him. “Okay,” he finally says and opens the door again. Stiles enters with his movies and the popcorn, immediately dropping on his favourite place on the couch.<br/>
<br/>
When the movie is running and Stiles leans against him, Peter finds himself getting calmer. The pictures and noises are still there, but they are more in the background now. More distant. He inhales Stiles’ familiar scent and when he carefully rubs his cheek against Stiles’ neck, the boy doesn’t flinch away. Instead, he reaches up to run a hand through Peter’s hair and something in Peter’s chest glows so warm, it feels like Stiles brought the sun. Or a fire that doesn’t destroy.</p><p>So much comfortable grounding closeness, it’s too good to be true. But it still happens.</p><p>They still fall asleep like this, leaning against each other, connected and tangled.<br/>
<br/>
When Peter opens his eyes in the morning, it’s raining. It’s not only a drizzle, it’s an actual rainstorm. The heavy drops hammer against the windows and he can hear low thunder rolling in the distance. He feels utter relief and gets up carefully, trying not to wake up Stiles who is still snoring softly, his mouth slightly open and his hair ruffled. He looks peaceful and … lovely. Peter looks at him for a moment and startles a bit when he realizes he has the sudden desire to kiss Stiles’ lips. He stares at them, wondering how they would taste like. But he contains himself. He might have developed some feelings for Stiles, might feel the urge to protect him and make him smile, but surely, these feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated. Stiles is only doing this to help.</p><p>Peter gets up with a sigh and decides to take a look outside. </p><p>The rain feels heavenly cool on his skin. He raises his head and closes his eyes, inhaling air that for once doesn’t taste like ash. He enjoys the rushing noise around him for a moment, imagining how the rain is going to smother the flames, how the fire is going to drown. No one drowned the fire that consumed his family.</p><p>Steps approach from behind, splashing through the quickly forming puddles. It’s Stiles. He holds an umbrella over Peter’s head. “You’re going to catch a cold,” he says, sounding sleepy and mildly accusing. Peter chuckles. “Stiles, I’m a werewolf. We don’t catch colds.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh. Right.” Stiles still doesn’t take the umbrella away. They stand there for a while, watching the rain fall.</p><p>“Can I stay for breakfast?” Stiles eventually asks, almost shyly.<br/>
<br/>
“Of course,” Peter says. <em> You can stay as long as you want to </em> , is on his lips. It stays there.<br/>
<br/>
Stiles smiles and over them, a few sunbeams make it through the wall of grey heavy clouds.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I always love to hear what you are thinking about the story! ❤</p><p>Say hi on <a href="https://for-the-love-of-wolves.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a><br/>:)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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